The Kindest and Best of Men
by darkershade
Summary: One-shot. Edward Ferrars visits Colonel Brandon to thank him for his offer of a living.


I am shown into the drawing room of the townhouse on the outskirts of the city itself. It strikes me as appropriate, given how kind this man who has never met me has been to me, that his dwelling should be located away from the glitz and glamour of St. James, where all the others of my acquaintance are installed. They all are of society, and with one exception-but I will not think, will not even hint at her name to myself, for fear that my resolve in this whole ordeal will crumble-I find that society as a whole is repugnant to me. I much prefer country people, and country life. In the great metropolis, this is as close as I am likely to get.

The man himself appears-looking admittedly disheveled, and a little lost himself-carrying a book in one hand. This he sets down as he crosses the room to shake my hand. "Edward Ferrars," I introduce myself.

"Christopher Brandon."

"Yes. Colonel Brandon, I-I don't quite know-" I fumble for words. I have always struggled-it is impossible for me to ever just come out and say things. But the colonel eases my tension.

"Please, won't you have a seat?" And he does so, gesturing to the chair I have just abandoned to shake his hand.

I begin again. "I cannot-that is to say, your kindness to me has recently been made known, and I wanted to-to thank you. And to accept your kind offer. Of a living. It was...it was so kind of you to offer." How many times have I said 'kind' in this one interlude?

The man leans forward. "It is nothing. Please. I have it to offer, and you are in a position to take it. I have it on authority from Miss...Miss Dashwood...that you will be taking orders soon?"

"That is precisely my plan, yes," I answer, and I amaze myself with my ability to keep my voice steady even in the wake of her name.

"And you intend to marry?"

"Oh. Yes. As...as soon as I am able." It is now that my voice shakes.

The colonel studies me. I fiddle with the sleeve of my coat before I catch myself. Finally he says, "I think you and I will see a lot of one another. You will, I hope, find me an accommodating landlord. Given that the parsonage attached to the living is in need of some additions to make room for a man with a family-you see, the situation is not ideal, and I am thankful that someone has accepted it-it may take some months before you will be able to really fulfill the position. But should you choose to make your home in Delaford earlier than that, I can find a place for you in one of my other properties. I want to do everything in my power to make you and your new wife comfortable."

He gives no indication that he is anything other than completely in earnest. I am put in mind of my own family, the games they seem to indulge in with every conversation-always conniving, always struggling to gain the upper hand. And suddenly, I feel myself in the company of a kindred spirit. The weight of this knowledge is enough to cause my whole body to shiver, a fact that the Colonel notices.

"Please, may I offer you a drink?"

"I-oh. That would be most welcome."

"Tea?"

"Whatever you are taking."

His veiled scrutiny once more passes over me. "I was thinking of taking something stronger, in fact."

"Then that will do for me as well."

A small smile crosses his stern features, as he stands and strides over to the small crystal table laden with bottles. Two glasses of whiskey are poured. He hands me one, which I stand to take. He holds his glass out for me to touch with mine. As they clink together, he offers: "To the beginning of a partnership, of sorts."

I smile at him. "To your generosity," I reply, and I take a sip. It is very, very good, the warmest feeling I've had all day.

We sip in silence for a moment. Then I glance at the spine of his book. "What think you of Hume?"

For quite some time we dance around the topics of philosophy and nature, politics and history and faith and doubt. It is a superficial treatment of each subject, but I get the feeling that the well of his knowledge is deep enough as to elicit any number of fine conversations in future. To have such a man as a patron-again, considering many of the families I've known with livings attached to their establishments, insipid and avaricious as they have tended to be-I find myself singularly lucky. Until I consider the condition which brought about the colonel's offer of an opportunity.

Again, perceiving something unsaid in my demeanour, Brandon picks up my glass and his own to refill them. He suggests, "This time, let us drink to your marriage."

The hesitation I give him as I reach my glass to his own is noticed, but unremarked upon. Averting his eyes, he seems to think of something to say. Finally he arrives at, "I must tell you that your decision here to marry Miss Steele, despite all of your hindrances, is one of the few examples of real gentlemanly honour I've witnessed in this country in some time. I only regret that I cannot offer you a greater consolation than the living for your family's decision to disinherit you. I do not know what Miss Dashwood has told you, but long ago I too was the victim of such...cruelty. For that is what it seems to be, to me. I hope you will forgive my candour."

"No, not at all-candour is what I like best in a person. It is only unfortunate that one must so often deny the impulse of honest communication in order to appease some societal expectation."

"Just so."

I stand up after a moment of silent reflection at this, handing him my glass. He takes it and sets them both down, standing up to his full height. I notice now that he is quite formidable in appearance, strong and tall, every bit the retired army man and respectable country gentleman. It is a wonder that he does not frighten me. But I find myself shaking his hand once more in farewell, looking forward to knowing him better-though I know ours is an unequal relationship, he being my benefactor and my patron.

As I make my way out the door, he stops me. "Mr. Ferrars-"

"Yes?"

"I hope…" he scratches his head. "I hope you will take advantage of any game you desire to shoot, once you arrive at Delaford, if you like to hunt. I'd like to, er, extend an invitation to join me, once you are settled in. There's a couple of places that I can recommend where the shooting is quite good. If you have time, that is."

"Quite," I reply. "Again-you are too generous, Colonel Brandon."

"You must-please, I must insist you call me Christopher. Or Chris, if you like."

"Edward, then."

"Edward." We look down at the carpet, and then I take my leave at last.

As I step up into my barouche, I forget for a minute the deep, soul-sucking agony of my coming marriage, and my eternal estrangement from the woman whom of all others I most long to hold close to me. I am simply comforted by the promise of friendship.


End file.
